


T&H: Things Unseen

by firefright



Series: Talon and the Hood [15]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Angst, Bathing/Washing, Christmas, Codependency, Court of Owls, Cute, Dick Grayson is a Talon, Family Issues, Fluff, Food Issues, Gen, M/M, Making Out, Non-Graphic Violence, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, Smoking, Torture, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-04-24 13:46:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4921891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefright/pseuds/firefright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moments, ficlets and missing scenes from the Talon & The Hood series, that don't fit into the main story instalments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Food

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely need to thank Nordstrom for inspiring me to start writing these, as their wonderful comments on the series give a lot of inspiration for all the dumb domestic stuff that would happen between Jason and Talon when they're not being dramatic. Generally I'm going to aim for these to be under a 1000 words, though since I have a problem with brevity that may not always be the case. 
> 
> Things that may also come up in these pieces: Flashbacks, flash-forwards, perspectives from characters we haven't seen yet, so on and so forth. I'm leaving the board open for whatever comes into my head tbh. I also heartily welcome prompts in the comments for anything anyone might like to see :)
> 
> This scene takes place the next morning after 'To the Sound of Your Heartbeat' in the timeline.

"Did you eat at all while I was gone?"

They're still in bed together, and it's early enough that the dawn light is starting to seep around the corners of the worn curtains covering the windows, painting the room in various shades of grey.

Talon turns his head to regard the teenager beside him. Jason is holding one of Talon's hands between his own, turning it this way and that as he inspects his arm, a frown on his face.

"Yes." Talon says, uncertain what he's getting at.

"Doesn't look like it." Jason loops his fingers around Talon's wrist, thumb and forefinger joined. He's grown broad as well as tall, and his hand is more than big enough to do it. 

He gets it then, he thinks. "You've grown, that's all."

Jason was always eating back when he was Robin. Dropping down to food vendors and fast food joints whenever there was a quiet moment to bring back treats both for himself and Talon. His appetite had been insatiable, the mark of a street kid who now had access to money and all the food he could want. Feeding Talon had been a by-product of that, because Jason always wanted to take care of others as much as himself. Maybe even more.

Chilli dogs, Talon remembers, those were his favourite.

"It's not just that I've grown." His bird - lover now? - grumbles. "You're too thin, it's not healthy."

"What are you doing?" He sighs, trying to pull Jason back down when the younger man moves to stand. Talon is warm and comfortable here, more comfortable than he's been in years, and not at all ready to get up yet - though he does appreciate the full view of Jason's back and ass, as well as the marks he's left on him. Jason doesn't let him stop him though, and bends down to pull his boxers back on, much to Talon's regret. He see's no reason why they can't stay naked if they're not going outside.

"I'm hungry." Jason tells him, turning to lean back down over the bed. There's just the briefest hesitation before he confidently presses their mouths together. His little bird has always been a fast learner. "And I know you are too, whatever you might be planning on saying about it, so I'm going to make us breakfast."

"Jason -"

"It'll be ready in fifteen minutes." He's told, and Jason's tone is expectant in a way that gives Talon one of those queer _deja vu_ moments he sometimes has. It tells him better than to argue. 

He waits until Jason has left the room to roll over into the spot on the bed he'd occupied, chasing what little warmth lingers while he still can.


	2. Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talon doesn't approve of Jason's bad habits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place pre-confrontation with Bruce. 
> 
> Originally I really wanted there to be a line in 'Aftershock' where Talon!Dick complains about tasting cigarette's in Jason's mouth after kissing him, but it felt out of place with the tone of the rest of the fic, so here's this instead XD

"Have you seen my cigarettes?"

Jason's boots thud across the floor when he enters the room, a deliberate stomp in his step as he walks over to the desk in the corner, starting to move piles of print outs, his second laptop and the kit he uses for cleaning his guns out of the way. They're not here, he's sure, he knows _exactly_ where he left them, but they weren't there either. "Talon?"

Jason looks, still has to do a double-take at the sight of the former Owl assassin currently curled up on his ratty couch in a position that looks like it should only be comfortable for girls to sit in. It's surreal, and exciting, to have Dick here in an apartment with him, to _live_ with him, rather than having to steal hours here and there on dark rooftops when Bruce was letting him run free by himself.

Talon's watching television, which is an even more surreal sight. Well he was, now he's blinking owlishly (bad descriptor) at Jason like he hadn't heard him properly, which is bullshit. It's a clear signal to Jason that he's hiding something.

"Talon," he tries again, leaving the desk for the couch. "Where are my cigarettes?"

"Gone."

"Gone." Jason repeats flatly, trying to still the twitching of his fingers. "Why?"

Talon doesn't flinch, doesn't even look remotely guilty as Jason leans down over him. "They're bad for you."

This old argument again. Jason grunts, "Yeah, I know, it says it on the damn packaging."

"And yet you still do it." A pale hand fists in the front of his shirt, and Jason gets about a half-second to prepare himself before Dick uncurls and pulls him down on top of him. "I told you before, little bird, I don't like it."

Jason ends up with his face kind of mashed against Talon's collarbone, and he grumbles about it even as his hands brace and push off against his lovers chest so that he can look up at him. "And I told you, it's one a day, if that."

"It makes your breath stink," Talon isn't budging on the issue, "And your mouth tastes disgusting, afterwards. I don't like kissing you when you smoke."

"Then I'll brush my teeth after every smoke, use mouthwash and everything. Jesus." He feels like a kid again, dodging Bruce, Alfred, Bab's when she could stomach him, and everyone else in-between. "C'mon Talon, it helps take the edge off." 

Fingers trace up his side, dig in a little too hard against his ribs. "You don't need _them_ to do that." Teeth graze his lip and Jason thinks _oh_ , right before his mouth is claimed in a bruising kiss. He certainly doesn't feel like a kid when Talon does that, and it's a pretty effective method of cutting off any further argument he might have made.

Kissing turns to touching, to groping, to hands sliding up shirts and down the backs of trousers. They make out like teenagers, escalating their intimacy at the drop of a hat. Sex as part of their relationship is still so exciting and new that Jason feels like he's drowning every time they fuck; like he's being baptised in the river of sin and he'll never get enough.

He won't argue with Talon on this anymore he decides, resolving instead to learn to hide his cigarette's better. There are some vices he just can't give up.


	3. Stockings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas is a time for family, both absent and present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a couple months early, but the idea begged to be written. I'll probably throw together something else for when December actually rolls around :D

Bruce pauses before the fireplace in the grand drawing room, his eyes fixing upon the marble mantelpiece.

It's December, and, as he did every year despite Bruce's own lack of interest in the holiday, Alfred had pulled out all the decorations for the manor. Tim had been by earlier to help him, but the teenager had since disappeared back to his own house and father before Bruce returned home himself.

Things have been tense between them since the incident earlier that year, when Bruce had benched Robin for a good month before letting him back out onto the streets again. An unfortunate situation, but necessary. He still stands by the decision.

He'd never expected what happened at Crime Alley to have this sort of knock-on effect though.

"Alfred," Bruce says quietly, as he reaches out to brush his fingers over old worn fabric. Blue and green, their favourite colours. "Why are these here?"

"It's Christmas, sir." Alfred's voice answers from behind him, like it's obvious. 

The two stockings hang in what had been their customary spots when their owners had lived in the manor many years before, right next to Bruce, Alfred and now Tim's own. The wool is lovingly mended in places, and the gold thread that inscribes their initials shines as brightly as ever. _D_ and _J_ respectively. "Alfred, they're -"

"Masters Dick and Jason are out there, somewhere, and they are still family, no matter who they have become or what they have done." Bruce isn't sure he's ever heard his faithful old butler sound quite so tired and worn out before. "They should know that, for the day they make their way home again."

Bruce turns away from the stockings, the only tangible evidence besides the two locked rooms upstairs and the costumes in the cave of the two boys he had failed to protect. "I don't know if that will happen, Alfred." 

Jason hates him, and Dick still doesn't seem to remember who he is. The revelation of their relationship bothers him in more ways than one, and the fact that Jason implied it had begun even _before_ he died... it had been a bitter, hard pill to swallow.

There were so many questions, and precious few answers to be found.

"I have faith in them, sir." 

"How?" Bruce can't help but ask, helpless as the child he hasn't been in a long time. The boy who used to believe Alfred held all the answers.

"Because someone has to. Because they're both good boys, in their hearts." Alfred chides him gently, reaching to lay a worn hand on Bruce's shoulder before turning away to head back to the kitchen.

Bruce looks back to the fireplace, heart twisting with the memory of better, happier days. Dick's delighted laughter on Christmas mornings; Jason's continuous attempts to discover the contents of his gifts before the day dawned, cheekily citing that he was practising his detective skills whenever he was caught.

His jaw tightens, as does his resolution. Bruce heads for the grandfather clock, intent on further refining the searches he has running on the Bat computer.

One way or another, he will bring his boys home.


	4. Names

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a theme here.

"Blue Jay?"

Jason frowns, lifting his eyes from the laptop screen for a moment. He's on the floor and Talon's sat behind him on the couch, legs draped over Jason's shoulders, ankles crossed over his stomach. Talon's fingers keep tugging and pulling through his hair at unpredictable moments, and what he's trying to do Jason's not quite sure.

"Little on the nose, don't you think?" He looks back down, keeping his head still as a thumb brushes over his ear. Jason's looking up the advantages of certain types of body-armour, trying to figure out what they're going to do about costumes since they're still stuck on names. "Besides, blue's not really my colour."

Red is, or if he was being honest with himself he would say green was his favourite, but that had been back before he'd died. Now it's red, which he's fine with. Red sends a message.

"Cardinal then."

Jason snorts, "That makes me sound like I'm working for the damn Pope."

Behind him Talon laughs softly, his fingers messing with Jason's hair still. "Hm, Rosefinch?"

"No." He rolls his eyes.

"Sparrow?"

"Does it have to be a bird name?"

"I like birds." Talon replies, with mock-offence in his voice. Jason knows he's smiling still without having to look. "You've always been my little bird."

"Not so little now." Jason reminds him. "No one's going to be scared by 'Sparrow', T."

Talon clucks his tongue, and Jason closes the laptop before leaning his head back on his partner's lap. He closes his eyes when Talon brushes his thumbs down over his cheeks, scratching at the stubble growing on his jaw. "Sparrow _hawk_."

This time Jason laughs, eyes flying open to see the shit-eating grin on Talon's face. He loves it. "Now you're just messing with me."

"Me?" Those gold-ringed eyes go wide and innocent, in a way Jason doesn't buy for a second.

"Asshole." He puts the laptop to the side, then wriggles his way round so he's leaning up on his knees, hands on Talon's thighs. "If I'm going to be Sparrow," he starts, mouth close to Talon's own as he makes sure to pour as much lewd intent as he can into his voice, "Then I'm calling you... hm, _Swallow_." And oh, he laughs at the expression of distaste that flies across Talon's face, right before he's shoved down onto his back on the floor.

"Bad little bird." His partner tuts at him, carefully straddling Jason so that he doesn't jostle his admittedly still sore ribs too much. It still hurts, but only as much Talon wants it to. "What am I going to do with you?"

Jason smirks, hands settling on Talon's hips. 

"Dunno, but I'm sure you'll think of something."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Names are hard you guys, so hard. 
> 
> This one's set after 'Birds in Flight', while Jason and Talon!Dick are still settling in at Bludhaven.


	5. Names Part II

"Bluebird."

"Yes, Bluebird." Talon looks amused, perched on the edge of the rickety wooden table, the sole piece of furniture in the room. "Is that a problem?"

Jason shakes his head, pushing broken pieces of pottery around with his foot. A real shame about that, it had been a pretty nice vase and their new apartment could use some decoration. "It's just not what I expected."

"What were you expecting?" 

He refrains from rolling his eyes, sometimes being around Talon is like playing twenty questions. "I don't know, something more intimidating, I guess. Something that will make criminals afraid of you. Not Bluebird."

"They're afraid of the name Robin." Jason flinches minutely at the mention of that title, watching his partner slip off the edge of the table and saunter towards him, leaving more bloody footprints across the floorboards as he goes. "They'll be afraid of Bluebird too." His fingers wind through Jason's hair, pushing back his messy curls. 

The air smells of sweat, blood and gunpowder as Jason breathes it in. On the floor around them are the still-warm bodies of the drug smugglers they killed, and his heart beats quickly with the lingering adrenaline thrumming through his veins. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Redwing and Bluebird, they go together." Talon, or maybe it's Bluebird now, tilts Jason's head down towards him so he can kiss the corner of his mouth. "Just like you and me."

Sometimes Jason thinks he could get off just like that, purely from being told that he's wanted. 

"You are pretty scary, no matter what you call yourself." Jason hums, brushing his nose against Dick's.

"I know," he smirks, "that's what will make it fun."

"Yeah okay." He's grinning at Dick pulls away from him again, stepping around Jason to work his dagger free from the head scumbag's eye socket. They were all multiple murderers at the very least, so there's no guilt in having them dead beneath their feet. "You know this means we can finish off our uniforms now."

His eyes light up at the mention and before Jason can blink Dick's back across the room, sliding one leg out the window and looking back impatiently at Jason like a kid waiting to go to the zoo. "Hurry up then," he says demandingly, gesturing at his old Talon suit. "I'm tired of wearing this."

Jason laughs and fishes in his pockets for fuel and a lighter. He pours a liberal amount of the former on the bodies and the floor before joining the newly dubbed Bluebird at the window. "Race you home?"

"You'll lose."

"Not this time, Blue." The way Dick smiles at him when Jason so easily uses his new name is worth it, and Jason grins back as he tosses the lighter behind him into the room and follows him out the window into the night, leaving the fire to eat up any evidence they were ever there at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /chinhands


	6. Bargain

Jason is, for lack of a better word, _cheap_.

No, that's not quite right. Jason's more than willing to spend money on food, plus the armour and equipment that fuels their nightly crusade because that's a necessity. He's also perfectly happy to pass out handfuls of cash to those in need, to homeless kids and abused women trying to get back on their feet, but outside of that? Yes, he's cheap.

Their home, _theirs_ , is a mish-mash of clashing styles, a misers dream full of furniture and electronics hunted down through the various avenues of thrift shops, Ebay and Craig's List (items always collected and never delivered). Jason won't pay out for anything he can't get away with spending bottom dollar for and Bluebird can't help but find it oddly endearing.

You can take the kid out of Crime Alley, but you can't take the Crime Alley upbringing out of the kid.

He stands, dressed in one of Jason's hoodies, and watches with fascination as Jason pours through the clothing racks, trying to find something big enough to fit his frame. Sometimes he tries to encourage Blue to look too but honestly he's comfortable enough wearing Jason's old hand-me-downs on the rare occasions he ventures out outside of the night. They're always more comfortable than anything else ever could be, soaked in the smell that simply is Jason. He feels safer this way, like he's wrapped in a physical shield against any prying eyes that try to look past the sunglasses to the creature underneath.

"Three bucks!" Jason exclaims excitedly, pulling out a top that's a deep midnight blue, rather like the shade that shears across the chest of the Bluebird suit. He holds it up carefully while balancing the pile of books he's already picked up under his other arm; soon they'll have enough to claim a small library. " _Three_ bucks, Blue." At a glance he can tell the garment would be too small for Jason, but the question is answered when his partner puts it up against him instead.

There's a warm flush across Jason's cheeks as he answers the unspoken question, "It'd look good on you."

"I don't need it, Jason." Blue tries to divert, because he never thinks much of his own attractiveness beyond what it means to Jason, nor does he need more than he already has. "I'm good with this." He gestures to the hoodie he's wearing, to the jeans he's had to belt tight to his hips and roll up once at the ankles. The only article of clothing he's wearing that is actually tailored to fit him are his boots, and only then because they're the same ones he wears out on patrol.

"It's not always about what you need, Blue." Jason says seriously, "You should have some clothes of your own. Come on," he steps closer, leaning into him while ignoring the glare of a nearby older woman perusing a collection of the ugliest china cats Bluebird has ever seen. "It's your colour."

Blue blinks, bemused, before he unthinkingly says, "If it'll make you happy."

It's like he flicked a switch. Jason's expression closes off immediately and he takes a step away, putting cold distance between them. "I don't want you to get it just because it will make me happy." He says flatly, dropping the shirt back onto the rack. "That's not how it's supposed to work."

"Jason -"

"You either want it or you don't, so tell me which it is." Jason grimaces, holding his battered paperbacks to his chest as he looks down at his feet. "Don't - don't ever just do things because you think it'll make me happy. I don't want you to do that, I want you to be you. I want you to do things for you."

Blue straightens up under Jason's demand, his hands reach to brush across Jason's shoulders. He didn't realise this was a point before. "Jason, everything I do with you is for me."

Those blue-green eyes widen as Jason lifts his head back up, pink stealing across his cheeks. His little bird is so easily flustered sometimes, it's adorable. "What?"

"You make me happy." He explains, fingers tracing the seams of Jason's jacket, "It's a little selfish, but making you happy makes me happy."

He can see Jason thinking that over, deciding whether or not it's a suitable answer before his expression finally softens in acceptance, just as Blue knew it would. "Yeah?"

"Yes." Blue leans in and kisses him, ignoring the sound of an ugly china cat falling to its doom from the hand of a scandalised grandmother. "Get the shirt, Jason. It's only three dollars."

Jason gets the shirt, the old woman pays five dollars for the broken cat, and when Blue puts the shirt on at home it's not even five minutes before Jason's peeling him out of it again. That alone makes it three dollars well spent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bargain shopper Jason is a favourite headcanon of mine, one that makes a lot of sense to me considering his background. When you grow up poor and having to be thrifty by necessity it's hard to shake that habit even when you do have enough money to spend more.
> 
> The next proper instalment of Talon and the Hood will be up Monday, it just needs a little more tweaking before it's ready for posting :D


	7. Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a flashback.
> 
> Warning's for descriptions of torture ahead.

Cold. 

He's so cold. His teeth chatter like they're going to vibrate right out of his skull and no matter how tightly he curls into himself Dick can't stop them, can't shake it. It feels like he's dying.

_He'll come._

In this cell, this _pit_ , the days blur. Night and day have become abstract concepts as the light comes and goes at the whim of his captors, the cycle ever changing to destroy his perception of time.

They allow him no stability to brace himself against.

_Batman will come._

How long has it been? Weeks or months, he just can't tell. Weeks he hopes, sinking into memory, trying to recall his training in order to cling to sanity. It's hard; the area they keep Dick in is rounded, a spherical torture chamber that denies the instinctive urge to put his back against comforting corners.

They want to break him down, to shatter him into malleable pieces that can be rebuilt in their own image. Dick can't, won't give into them. He has too much faith in those he knows love him.

(They've told him things, this Court of Owls, the sea of blank white faces who watch him every minute of his existence. They told him the circus betrayed him, that old Mr. Haly handed him over himself; that Bruce already has another little bird under his wing, that he doesn't care enough to bring Dick home or even notice that he's missing. Dick doesn't believe a word of it.)

_Bruce will come for me. He always does._

The wet trickle of water rouses him and Dick looks up, swallows as his cell starts to flood. He knows what's happening. "H-he'll come... just... j-just gotta h-hold on... little longer."

If not Bruce then definitely his friends. Surely the Titans are looking for him already.

Staggering up, Dick stretches out his stiff naked limbs and gasps as the icy water hits his feet. It'll be okay he reminds himself, fighting down his fear, they won't let him die. They need him to be their new killer, to replace the one who ambushed him in his bed back at the circus. With that knowledge he can deal with anything they throw at him he thinks, looking at the bars up above. He can survive as long as he needs to because Bruce...

_Bruce will come._

The water rises steadily, above his ankles, his knees, thighs waist and up. Dick takes a wheezing breath and pushes himself up along with it, until his hands can wrap around freezing iron. He has to push his face right up between the metal to keep breathing.

 _Relax, let the waters natural buoyancy do most of the work for you_. It's not that hard.

Still -

 _Bruce_ , Dick thinks desperately, as his teeth chatter worse than ever and his fingers go numb, _please._

Above him gold eyes watch dispassionately from the shadows. They don't blink even when he starts to drown.


	8. Phone Call

Talia calls him four months down the line in Bludhaven. 

"Hey."

"So you aren't in Gotham anymore."

Jason smiles, of course she's running tracers on the call. In fact he doubts Talia ever lost track of him in the first place, she's probably just humoring him by letting him think he ever escaped her notice. "Got a little hot for me there."

"Batman did not kill the Joker." Talia says, straight to the point.

He grimaces in response. "No."

"You didn't kill him either."

"You want to know who did." Jason surmises quickly, tapping his fingers against the fridge door as he leans his head against it, the phone pressed tightly to his ear. He can still the Joker's last laugh echoing in the back of his mind.

Talia is silent, which is as good as a yes from her.

"I found an old friend to help me in Gotham. When he realised Bruce wasn't going to do it he stepped in. Made sure that monster wouldn't get away with hurting anyone ever again."

"You never told me about any friends you have in Gotham. Who is he?"

Jason bites his lip. He can hear the reproach in her voice, the disappointment that for all Talia's help he didn't divulge all his secrets and now he's torn. He trusts her, wants to tell her because Talia saved him. Without her who knows where he'd be; still wandering the Gotham streets as a living zombie most likely (and maybe, _maybe_ Talon or Bruce would have found him themselves eventually, but Jason never would have been himself again without the help of the Lazarus Pit). Yet...

"He calls himself Bluebird." He admits eventually. Talia will figure that out easily enough if she's watching his actions in Bludhaven anyway, so he's not betraying anything by saying it.

"I've never heard of him."

"He's kept a low profile."

Talia makes a low amused sound. "I would like to meet him one day, this man who killed the Joker."

 _You already have_ , Jason bites back the urge to say. She met the first Robin, not Blue. Not his partner. "Well, hey, if you're ever in town..."

"You're planning on staying in that hellhole?" 

"I need a new pet project and Bludhaven is as much a place in need as any."

"You are risking a lot, staying so close to Bruce."

Jason closes his eyes. "I know."

They're both silent for a while, nothing but the sound of their breathing echoing down the line.

"So how're things with you?" Jason asks finally, when he's gathered himself together again. "Anything going on that I should know about?"

Like the progress of small murderous blood-sons of Bruce Wayne.

"No, nothing important." He can tell that Talia's getting ready to hang up. "Take care of yourself, Jason."

"You too, Talia."

There's a click before the dial tone echoes in his ear. Jason drops his phone into his pocket and walks over to window and out onto the fire escape. He needs a smoke and it's better that he gets it over with before Dick comes home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Throwing this up in celebration of finally breaking my writers block on the last chapter of "We'll Take This Town..." Hopefully I should have that up by his weekend.
> 
> As ever, thanks for reading!


	9. Bath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing says love like sharing a cramped bathtub.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick fic written as a palate cleanser from some of the other things I'm working on at the moment, because I don't know about the rest of you but I needed some pointless fluff between these two. Takes place pre-Bottom of the River, obviously XD

“Mm, I hate to break it to you, Blue, but I think there’s a slim chance this tub wasn’t made for two people.”

The water sloshes around Jason’s chest as his companion stirs, voice raising in sleepy protest, “I’m not getting out.”

“Wasn’t saying you should.” He suppresses his laughter at the childish reply, pressing a kiss to Blue’s damp hair instead, weighed down as it is against the curvature of his skull by the humidity filling the room. “Just meant we might need to invest in something bigger if this is going to become a habit.”

The bath had been Jason’s idea, a cleansing reward for the sore muscles he’s been carting round after three long nights spent in pursuit of three different competing groups of criminals all chasing after the same prize though Bludhaven’s grimy streets. But he’d only had five minutes of soaking in the blissfully hot water to himself before the bathroom door opened and Blue slipped inside, stripping off his clothes and then climbing in on top of Jason without so much as a ‘by your leave’.

Jason is a big man, and Blue only two inches shorter, though he’s less broad than his younger partner by a wider margin; a regular bathtub just isn’t big enough to hold the two of them comfortably. Which meant that a good deal of water had ended up on the tiled floor by the time they managed to get settled into a position that suited them both: Blue curled up tight on Jason’s chest with his legs tucked in between the spread of Jason’s thighs.

But that mild discomfort doesn’t take away from the fact that it’s still warm, still good. With the door closed tight steam fills the room, turning the ordinary bathroom into a poor man’s sauna, and the urge to just sink into that cloud and forget that any world exists outside this place laps insistently at the edges of Jason’s mind, reminding him just how tired he is in both body and soul.

“Good habit.” Blue mumbles against his heat flushed skin..

It’s a pleasure to see him like this, sleepy with all his hard edges softened by the hot water - which is maybe the only reason why Jason’s managed to remain awake himself. Blue’s eyes stay closed as his temple rests against Jason’s collarbone, damp eyelashes curled prettily against his cheeks while the sodden mass of his hair clings to his neck, loosened only by the back-and-forth brush of Jason’s thumb over the ridges of his spine.

Jason has known for years that Blue hates the cold, that it holds bad memories for him - originating somewhere back in the cruelty of the Court’s training - but the way he reacts to heat is still something else. Something incredible, an intimacy he takes delight in knowing only he is privy to be witness to; the only one Blue trusts to let himself be vulnerable around.

“Yeah?” Jason kisses the top of his head again. Now that the rest of their apartment is settled and Bludhaven is more or less theirs, it won’t hurt to take on a new project at home. “I’ll look into it then. Maybe even get one of those old fashioned copper ones with the clawed feet, set it up with some scented candles and bubble bath just for you.”

Blue snorts softly, fingers brushing up and down Jason’s ribs. “Don’t break the bank. So long as the water’s hot, I don’t care what it looks like.”

“No fear of that, pretty bird, you know I’ll always keep you warm.” He wraps his arms more tightly around Blue’s back. “Whatever you need.”

No reply follows, and it soon becomes apparent when Jason turns his head to look down at his face that Blue’s actually fallen asleep against him. He smiles at the rarity of this moment, the full force of what he feels for this man burning bright in his chest. 

Later when the water cools he’ll have to rouse Blue, towel him off and wrap him in the pile of blankets on their bed instead to keep his promise, but for now Jason is happy to languish here in the tub, watching his lover sleep in warm contentment. He deserves moments like this, as many of them as Jason can provide. It’s only right after all he’s done for him and all he’s suffered through.

Even if it does mean not being able to feel his legs for a few hours.


	10. Bored

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *squints at contract* So apparently I'm obligated to give you guys something cute after every chapter of Bottom of the River?
> 
> Joking aside, this is a fun ficlet I wrote as a prompt fill for Brillianthijinx over on [tumblr](http://firefrightfic.tumblr.com/) yesterday, and I thought I'd put it u[ here on Ao3 for you guys as well XD My proper update this week will be my JayTim Secret Santa story (and posting for the Batfam Christmas Exchange begins as well, though since those will be anon until the end of December you'll all have to have fun guessing which one is mine until then!), the posting for which starts on Tuesday. So please enjoy this in the meantime!

“Jason,” comes the heavy sigh from behind him, “Are you done yet?”

Jason doesn’t pause in what he’s doing when Blue’s arms wind around his neck over the back of the couch, when his fingers slide down over his chest and his chin comes to rest on the top of his head; he just keeps on typing. Fingers flying over the keyboard of his laptop as he updates their database on the various dirty dealings that have been going off in and around Bludhaven this past week. It’s hardly the most thrilling job in the world to be taking care of on a Friday afternoon, but it is a necessary one, and still enough of a habit from his first stint in crime fighting that Jason finds satisfaction in completing it, even if his partner doesn’t necessarily agree with him on that fact.

“Almost.” He replies, as if this isn’t the third time Blue’s asked him that question today, biting down on the edges of his smile as he reads over the last paragraph he wrote, then jumps back a sentence to make a correction. “Why, is something wrong?”

Blue huffs as he starts to gather up Jason’s shirt in his hands, pulling and twisting the fabric between his fingers; exposing his stomach to the cool air of the apartment in the process. “You’ve been working on those reports all afternoon,” he complains, “I’m _bored_.”

“It won’t take much longer.” Jason says, still holding his amusement back at the way Blue is acting. Like a petulant teenager rather than an accomplished assassin. “Then I’ll be all yours, I promise.”

“You’re already all mine.” Blue reminds him, as if Jason could ever forget. “But you better mean that. Or I'll have to start getting jealous of that laptop of yours, and you know how that will end.”

“With me having to buy a new one?”

“Exactly.”

“Well we can’t have that. Especially if you don’t want to start skipping takeout night to pay for it.” Jason takes one of Blue’s hands in his own, waiting for him to release his shirt so he can raise it up and kiss the inside of his wrist. “I know how much you love that Italian place.”

Blue snorts at his threat, “Careful, little bird. Don’t start games you won’t win.”

“You’re the one starting it.” Jason points out, looking up when Blue leans back from the couch and him to stand up straight again.

They’ve known each other several years now, but he still finds his breath being taken away when he sees Blue sometimes. The dark sweep of his hair frames his face like a portrait out of time, making his pale skin and gold-lined eyes stand out sharply against the warm light of their apartment as his lips curve upwards into a predatory smile. He’s beautiful, and sometimes Jason can’t believe that out of all the people in the world Blue chose him. That he loves him, trusts him, and believes in him. That he faithfully follows Jason in his cause, even though it’s not his own.

“And I’ll be the one finishing it too.” Blue’s eyes, cold by nature, still convey playfulness as he smirks back at him. Then he’s climbing over the back of the sofa like a cat - a habit Jason has given up on trying to break him of despite what it does to the cushions - and he barely has enough time to close the laptop and get it safely out of the way before Blue’s pouncing on him, fingers delving for the ticklish spots on Jason’s stomach that only he’s privileged enough to know about.

Never one to take things lying down, Jason fights fire with fire, going for Blue’s ribs in a move that ends with him rolling them both onto the floor. The coffee table takes a hit, as does the TV stand, before Blue triumphantly pins him down with both of his wrists contained in his hands. “Still want to finish your work now, Jason?” he asks, flashing his teeth dangerously close to his face.

“Not even a little.” Jason says honestly, breathless and smiling on the ugly patchwork rug Blue insisted they liberate from the local thrift store last month. “And you, still bored?”

Blue’s shakes his head, meeting Jason’s smile with one of his own before he’s leaning down to kiss him.

“No, not even a little.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have a tumblr! Feel free to check me out at http://crumpeting.tumblr.com/


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